Runaway

Eric, the guy you asked, points you towards the youth hostel. He offers to go with you but you shake your head. You lie and say that your brother is waiting for just over there. You point towards a dark bus shelter. Eric frowns, he probably doesn’t believe you, but then thankfully he shrugs.

“Thanks.” You turn and walk away before he can ask any more questions, before he can tie you too him. He runs and catches up with you
.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” he sounds smug, as if he knows some secret you don’t know.

“Maybe,” you walk swiftly away before he can say anymore.

Thirty minutes later you book into the youth hostel. One night is all you can afford.

“Name please.” The stone faced woman behind the counter demands.

“Pip,”

She glares at you.

“Jones,” you stutter.

You know every detail or Great Aunt Pips birth certificate. Just substitute in your older brother’s birth year and your set. Stone lady taps in your all your details in. Click, click, click, she passes you a key card.

“Room thirty eight,” she barks.

“How much?” you ask reaching for your wallet. She shakes her head.

“Pay in the morning,” you notice the subtle German accent now.

“Thanks.”

You turn and walk up the single flight of stairs and down the two corridors that take you to your room. You open the door and see two teenage girls sat on a bunk bed.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Hey roomie, I’m Ella and this is Lucy,”

Ella, a curvy red head grins; Lucy is thin with long black hair pulled back into a pony tail. She had black rimmed square glasses, the type you had begged for when you had to wear glasses, but your mum had so no.

“They are too much,” She had scolded, your hand slips into your jeans pocket to close around the green glasses you had settled on instead.

Lucy waves. “I’m Pip,” you stutter realising they were waiting for this
.
Ella goes back to her magazine instantly bored.

“Isn’t this the cutest shirt?” she points at the shiny pages pulling Lucy into her world.

You put your bag on the free bottom bunk and pull your scraggy pyjamas out of it.
You pad softly down the hall to the toilets. You lock the door and quickly get changed.
Your reflection in the mirror shocks you. It’s the hair colour; you’re not used to it yet. That’s what you say to calm yourself. You walk back down the hall.

“Damn it,” you curse; you’ve forgotten your key card.
You knock softly on the door. Lucy opens it.

“Forget your key?” she smiles.

Over her shoulder you can Ella asleep. You stifle a giggle. She is propped up on two pillows, one stolen from another bed you note; with her hair spread out over the pillow princess style. She even has one of those sleeping mask you thought only came on airplanes. Lucy looks at her and snorts.

“What a diva,” she murmurs.

You share a sarcastic look.

“Night,” you say quietly.

“Yeah night,” she murmurs.